


To All The Boys I Ghosted Before

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Boys Kissing, Developing Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Use of the Drive OST, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, This is actually nothing like To All The Boys I Loved Before, biography, day 3: distance, tinder au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: Ten knows that John is right but he can't help the trepidation he feels anyway. Part of it is laziness- the prospect of having to put on something decent in the hopes of impressing someone is for lack of a better word, tiring, but he also knows that being lazy won't get him laid.The other part of it though, the bigger part of it really, is that the Kun in his head is charming, yes, and funny. Endearing. Just the right kind of flirty.But that’s words on a screen. That’s all it is.And yet. And yet.-Or: The Tinder AU where Ten ghosts Kun in date night— and months later finds out that Kun is his new neighbor.





	To All The Boys I Ghosted Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairyslush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyslush/gifts).



> You know what I'm going to say: this started out as a joke tweet when Bella kept talking to us about how she was gonna bail on her Tinder matches. I wasn't going to build on it. I had left the initial tweet alone... until it refused to leave ME alone. 
> 
> This is for Bella, who is pretty much Ten. Down to the cat. Thanks for letting me run away with this idea, Bells. Me love u long time. 
> 
> Special thanks to Jen and Klo with whom I bounced ideas off of, and who were so lovely about me throwing plot points around. 
> 
> Special thanks to that one anon who said that Kun felt a little disingenuous-- I had been wanting to avoid that, so you sending that ask in helped me fix the course of the story and I'm truly so grateful. 
> 
> This is completely unbeta-ed. I'll probably go over it one of these days. Heh.
> 
> EDIT: An additional thank you to Any whose interactions with the original thread inspired the music and the scene where the Drive OST is mentioned. :) Thank you, Kunten President.

[Aldo, 8:15 am]

Heyyyyyyy, Good lookin!!!! 🤪🤪 dtf???

_[Wonho, 8:07 am]_

Hey, Ten! That’s an interesting name. Is it in reference to Beyoncé’s ‘All them fives need to listen when the ten is talking’? :)

 

_[Kun, 8:00 am]_

Good morning, Ten. ☺️ I hope you have a good day today!

 

Ten stares at his notifications, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his other hand. He can’t help the sigh that escapes when he reads through the messages on his stupid Tinder app, which he’s had for about four days now, and has regretted every day since.

 “Get Tinder, he said,” Ten mutters, sitting up in bed and plugging his phone back in to charge it. “It’ll be fun, he said.”

 Ten wasn’t gonna do this, but his dating prospects have gotten so fucking dismal lately that he’s had no choice but to give in to Johnny’s suggestions. Well, that and also Johnny had made a relatively good (read: passable) argument since he and Yuta had matched on Johnny’s first hour on the goddamn app, and they’ve been nauseatingly inseparable ever since. Ten’s grateful they’re not big on PDA otherwise he’d have already thrown up.

So yeah, Johnny is pretty sold on the idea of finding love on a dating app. This would be fine, Ten supposes, if he was just looking for a quick fuck, but that’s something he could do without an app. All he’d need is some of his lip gloss, his tightest jeans, and a bar.

But.

But Ten is tired.

He’s so fucking tired.

He just wants to meet someone who he can talk to on the regular about politics and his favourite books, and maybe kiss, and hold hands with, and watch movies together with. Preferably all in one sitting.

He steeps his tea, showers quickly, moisturises his face, and checks his phone again. The app tells him that he’s got 13 new matches.

It leaves him feeling hollow.

He pulls open the direct messages and decides to respond to a few as he gathers his bag and his keys and leaves for work.

 

_[Wonho, 8:07 am]_

Hey, Ten! That’s an interesting name. Is it in reference to Beyoncé’s ‘All them fives need to listen when the ten is talking’? :)

 

_[Ten, 9:30 am]_

No but that’s a pretty good reference there 😋

 

_[Wonho, 9:37 am]_

I’m listening then Ten ;)

 

_[Ten, 9:45 am]_

Haha 😛

 

Ten sighs. This is dry. So dry. Even if Wonho is ridiculously hot. So is the morning sun, which is glaring and sweltering on his walk to the office that he decides to pocket his phone since he can’t see anything on the screen anyway. He doesn’t check it again until he’s in the elevator.

 

_[Kun, 8:00 am]_

Good morning, Ten. ☺️ I hope you have a good day today!

 

_[Ten, 9:35 am]_

Hey Kun, gmorning~ 🌸 Thankooos! I hope you have good day too!

 

_[Kun, 9:48 am]_

Anything big on your plate for today? ☺️

 

_[Ten, 10:00 am]_

Not much really, I already got the work done yday 😺

 

Ten can’t place what it is about this guy that makes him not want to opt out of conversation immediately, but he decides to roll with it. He doesn’t have anyone else that he’s compelled to keep replying to anyway. Kun tells him about a trip he’s taking to Japan soon, and Ten sits up in his seat, replying sporadically, as they trade stories about the trips they’ve taken over the last couple of years.

Wonho has messaged twice.

Ten doesn’t read them.

- 

It’s three weeks’ worth of conversation before Kun ever brings up the possibility of meeting, and it makes Ten freeze up when he reads the message. Cos the thing is, it’s been really nice talking to Kun, even if it’s just in-app. There are 47 unread messages from various matches.

 

**[Ten 7:02 pm]**

JOHNNY DERULO

 

**[Jyani 7:02 pm]**

How much do I have to pay you to stop calling me that

 

**[Ten 7:03 pm]**

100,000,000,000 won

Anyway not the point. Someone asked me out. I don’t want to say yes. What should I do?

 

**[Jyani 7:04 pm]**

Say no, duh 🙄

wait why not

 

**[Ten 7:10 pm]**

Because real men are disappointing

 

**[Jyani 7:10 pm]**

I’m a real man and so are you

 

**[Ten 7:11 pm]**

yeah have you met us???

 

**[Jyani 7:11 pm]**

ok valid

but yuta is also a Real Man and he isn’t disappointing

 

**[Ten 7:12 pm]**

Yuta’s favourite song is Marry You.

 

**[Jyani 7:13 pm]**

... God I hate you so fucking much for reminding me of this fact

Anyway

Who is it?

Was it that guy with the foot thing? Is that why?

 

**[Ten 7:14 pm]**

I get that this is payback but that’s low even for you

 

**[Jyani 7:15 pm]**

Karma, bitch

 

**[Ten 7:16 pm]**

ANYWAY no, it’s Kun, he’s the finance guy, the one with the cute dimples

 

**[Jyani 7:17 pm]**

oh yeah, beauty mark! He’s SO CUTE TEN, SO FUCKING CUTE

If yuta wasn’t around I’d tap that

Actually can you ask him if he’d be into a threesome

 

**[Ten 7:18 pm]**

FOCUS

 

**[Jyani 7:19 pm]**

Sorry 😐 anyway, why not go out with him? Why are u being so picky with the people you go out with

 

**[Ten 7:19 pm]**

Idek??

Idk. He’s really nice Johnny. What if he has an annoying tick? What if he has bad breath? I’ll never want to talk to him again

 

**[Jyani 7:21 pm]**

Ur literally never gonna know unless you actually go and meet him, Ten.

Stop being a coward.

 

**[Ten 7:22 pm]**

WOW A CALLOUT

why do I still talk to you

 

**[Jyani 7:23 pm]**

Im the only one you’d never kick for calling u out

 

**[Ten 7:23 pm]**

Hate_That_I_Love_You.mp3

 

-

 

Ten knows that John is right but he can't help the trepidation he feels anyway. Part of it is laziness- the prospect of having to put on something decent in the hopes of impressing someone is for lack of a better word, tiring, but he also knows that being lazy won't get him laid.

The other part of it though, the bigger part of it really, is that the Kun in his head is charming, yes, and funny. Endearing. Just the right kind of flirty.

But that’s words on a screen. That’s all it is.

And yet. And yet.

 

_[Kun, 7:00pm]_

Hey Ten, I know that this might be coming a little out of the blue, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in meeting up? We can grab dinner at a place of your choice if you want. I was thinking maybe this Saturday, if you were free? No pressure, of course.😊

Ten stares at the message. It’s been an hour.

Restaurant of his choice. Sounds good, all things considered.

Ten considers it for a moment, and decides on this little Italian place that he knows is halfway between their respective areas.

 

_[Ten, 8:03 pm]_

Hey, Kun! Sat is good!

 

-

 

It’s Saturday morning.

Ten’s alarm doesn’t go off, but he’s awake by 6 anyway, frustrating him mainly because that’s 2 hours added to his time left to anxiously debate with himself as to whether or not he’ll bail on Kun.

Ten knows he’s an asshole for even thinking it.

But.

“At worst, it’s free drinks, Tennie,” Yuta says over the phone. Johnny’s busy on location, so Yuta’s the only one around to talk to Ten at the moment.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ten says, staring at the bed full of clothes he’s laid out, trying to find the right outfit.

“Are you standing around trying to decide what to wear right now?” Yuta asks, voice muffled, the crunch of his cereal loud in Ten’s ear.

Ten halts in the middle of picking up a silk shirt.

“How do you do that? That’s creepy as fuck, Yuta,” Ten says, looking around.

“Oh please, we’ve been friends for a year. I just know you,” Yuta laughs.

This makes Ten sorta mushy inside, but he’ll never tell Johnny or Yuta, because he’ll never give them the satisfaction of knowing that their stupid app is worth _something._

The thing is, Ten doesn’t have commitment issues. Not really. Only just, sort of.

It’s not that big a deal.

Like, it’s only just a Small Thing, really.

“You might as well be useful for something and help me on video call, Yuyu,” Ten says.

“I can finally Tan France you!” Yuta says happily, switching his camera on.

“I dress better than you do but go off I guess,” Ten says, positioning his phone upright.

“Ok, what do you think of this one?” Ten says, spinning around slowly.

Yuta leans into the camera as if doing so will make Ten more visible.

“Are those... red tassels?” Yuta squints.

Ten tries not to be too self-conscious.

“What? Are they too much?” He asks, hands coming to the sides of his hips.

“I mean, are you gonna belly dance tonight or something?” Yuta asks, shoveling more food into his mouth. There’s a bit of milk on his chin. Ten doesn't tell him.

“Hey, I know, you can— okay you can change up your pants to the cut up ones, then just go basic black,” Yuta suggests, as Ten holds up his leather jacket.

“Won’t I look like I’m going to a rock concert?” Ten says, frustrated that he’s frustrated over an outfit at all.

“Nothing wrong with that, Tennie,” Yuta replies. There’re a few moments of silence as Ten goes out of frame to pull the outfit on, and then—

“See? Perfect,” Yuta smiles.

Ten stares at himself in the mirror. Squashes down the tiny wave of insecurity that rises up his stomach and into his throat.

“Hey Yuyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me I’m cute.”

“You’re cute, Tennie.”

 -

Ten is early, tucked away in a corner of the restaurant, still on the brink of bolting. He’s nervous, even if Kun has been nothing but endearing, updating him every so often, telling him how excited he was to finally meet Ten. Ten twists his napkin in his hand.

There are so many ways this evening could play out, and he keeps running them in his head.

Kun could be wonderful. He is, at least based off of the conversations they’ve had, but conversation is one thing. Conversations online are curated, especially those on a dating app.

It’s a bad idea, what Ten’s thinking.

He knows it’s a bad idea.

He knows it as he rises from the seat, the hand on his watch hitting 7:00; knows it as he puts one foot in front of the other, nothing to show his presence except a half-drunk water goblet.

He knows.

He goes.

 

-

 

“You did what?” Yuta says, calling Ten as soon as the message Ten’s sent him shows two little check marks.

“Look, it’s okay,” Ten says. “Like, it’s better this way! No disappointments!”

“This is pretty fucking disappointing to me, Tennie,” Yuta tuts. Ten purses his lips.

He knew to expect this, and he knows what’s coming next, especially since he hears Johnny call out to Yuta in the background. There’s a sort of tussle, and then Johnny on the phone.

“Tennie, what happened?” Johnny asks, concerned.

“I uhhh,” Ten says. There’s another call.

It’s Kun.

Ten doesn’t answer.

He calls 3 times.

A message comes in.

“I’m sorry I missed you.”

Another.

“Be well, Ten.”

Ten walks home, staring at his phone, this empty thing in his chest.

He deletes Tinder, decides he’s done with it.

The messages from Kun remain un-replied to.

Oh well.

It’s okay. It really is.

 

- 

 

Ten lives in a small studio apartment, on the 25th floor, and it’s a good place, even if it’s small. It’s the first thing he started saving up for when he began working at the agency, desperate to live comfortably, to not worry about rent, just association dues, and electricity.

When he had signed the contract, Johnny had been with him, and he’d snapped a photo of Ten with happy tears in his eyes.

Ten’s been self-sufficient ever since.

He takes his weekends slowly. He’ll boil his water and steep his oolong while Dolce sits on his lap, the white ragdoll looking up at him with her blue eyes once in a while until he acquiesces and scratches a bit behind her ears.

He’s happy in this calmness.

Well, he was.

There’s a drilling noise that pierces through the jazz music he has playing on his turntable, startling both him and his cat.

The drilling gets louder until it tapers off, and starts off again.  

Ten grits his teeth. It’s a motherfucking Sunday morning.

That’s when he hears some noise in the hall outside his, and some men shouting.

“What the everloving fuck—“ Ten mutters under his breath, gently picking Dolce up and settling her on the seat before padding over to the door and wrenching it open.

He sticks his head out.

He freezes.

Ten’s got this thing. He’s great with faces and names. He’s a visual person, which is why his boss always hypes him up when clients are looking for a “visionary” or whatever words they use when they check his portfolio out.

Anyway.

Beside the point.

So.

Faces.

Good with them.

Ten is so good with them that he’ll remember your name and your face and match them together as long as he’s seen your photo once from several angles. It’s like his mind just maps everything out and stores it. It’s how he ticks. He’s saved his boss’ ass countless times cos of it.

So when Ten catches sight of golden hair, he isn’t fazed, until he sees the jawline, a beauty mark under an eyebrow, the curve of the corner of a smile, and he just knows really fucking fucked.

He pulls his head back immediately, slams the door, and presses his back against it.

His heart is racing, because even if he’s never even met the man (which of course was his own entire damn fault, he knows, he’s beaten himself up over it already, thank you very much), he knows that fate has decided to fuck with him in the grandest manner, and he’s screwed.

Ten takes two breaths, calming and cleansing, before he finds his phone next to where Dolce is now perched on the table.

“This is fine,” he mutters to himself. “It’s fine.”

 

**[Ten 09:17 am]**

Oh my fucking god u know how they say what goes around comes around

 

**[Jyani 09:17 am]**

What goes on

 

**[Yuyu 09:18 am]**

Good morning tennie

What’s happening

 

**[WW 09:19 am]**

Morning folks

Tennie what up

 

**[Ten 09:19 am]**

I have a new neighbour

It’s him

Kun

**[WW 09:19 am]**

F

 

**[Jyani 09:19 am]**

F

 

**[Yuyu 09:19 am]**

F

 

**[Ten 09:20 am]**

None of you are helping

 

**[Jyani 09:20 am]**

Well

 

**[WW 09:20 am]**

😬😬😬😬

How do u know

 

**[Yuyu 09:21 am]**

omfg did he see u??? HOW DO U KNOW

 

**[Ten 09:22 am]**

I saw him, he didn’t see me

I think

Probs

 

**[Jyani 09:24 am]**

Oooof guess you have to either move out now or wear a paper bag over your head forever Tennie 😞

 

**[Ten 09:24 am]**

why do I put up with you

 

**[Yuyu 09:25 am]**

Maybe he won’t recognise you 🤡

 

**[WW 09:26 am]**

Lol

Tennie when u say neighbour like, how neighbour

 

**[Ten 09:26 am]**

Next door. So next door I can hear the drilling on the walls

 

**[Yuyu 09:26 am]**

Drilling 💀

 

**[Jyani 09:26 am]**

Drilling

 

**[Ten 09:27 am]**

🅱️LEASE shut up

**[WW 09:27 am]**

Oh well, most people don’t see their neighbours in condos anyway. You should be okay 👌🏽

 

 -

 

Sicheng is right.

 

For about three weeks.

 

Ten had spent the entirety of that Sunday after catching sight of Kun by holing himself up in his room, trying to think of how to manage the situation should he ever bump into Kun in the elevator, and he’d come up with many scenarios. And he’d managed to avoid Kun so far by spending the next four days waking up at 5 instead of 7 am to listen for the door shutting to the right of his own. He knows now that Kun, or whoever might live with him, leaves for work at exactly 7:30 on the dot.

For the most part after that, Ten’s routine goes back to what it used to be: up at 7 am, out the door by 8, fed and caffeinated by 9 (cold brew, with coconut milk, of course).

He relaxes. Sicheng was right.

Except for right now.

Because a beautiful blonde joins him in the elevator.

Ten doesn’t move. His feet are planted firmly on the floor.

Kun looks straight at him.

Then looks back down at his phone, toggling his music on the dimly lit screen.

Ten presses G.

Music blares from Kun's earphones, a soft blond curl falls over his eyebrow.

Ten stays still.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Kun is the first to walk out, not a single glance back at Ten. Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t know who Ten was. Which was true— they’d never met.

Ten steps out after a moment, and by then Kun is already at the lobby door.

Nothing happened. The world didn’t stop moving. There was no explosion. Kun had looked at him, and hadn’t recognised him.

Ten relaxes, his walk becoming brisker, his chest feeling lighter. It’s okay. Kun doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t have to worry anymore.

It carries on and off like that for the following week. Sometimes, Ten will see him already walking out of the condominium’s lobby by the time he gets to the ground floor. Sometimes, Ten doesn’t see him at all. Sometimes, they ride the lift together. But there’s never anything.

 

-

 

It’s a Friday morning, and Ten is running late, rushing to the elevator that’s about to close when a hand sticks out to hold it open, and Kun is there, stupid beauty mark and curls and all, and he’s smiling at Ten.

“Morning, neighbour,” Kun says, as Ten catches his breath.

Ten’s bangs are in his eyes, so he brushes them back, before looking at this beautiful bottle blonde, and saying, “Uh, hello,” like an idiot.

“I’m Kun, you are?”

Ten stares at the hand being offered, hanging there like time is suspended.

“Hi— uh, I’m, T-Chittaphon.”

Kun takes a moment like he’s trying to see how the letters should fit in his mouth, and he stumbles, saying, “Ch-chi-ta-pon? Am I getting that right? I’m so sorry.”

Ten corrects him, and Kun manages it the second time around.

This is surreal.

What the fuck is going on?

Kun nods.

“I swear, I feel like I’ve seen you before,” Kun says. “Have we met?”

Ten swallows.

‘Well, we were supposed to,’ he thinks to himself.

“Ah, n-no, I don’t think we’ve ever met,” Ten says, trying to will the heat on his neck from rising.

He’s saved by the bell.

“Huh, funny that,” Kun says before stepping out. “See you around, Chittaphon.”

“See you,” Ten says, but Kun’s already left.

The doors on the elevators close, and Ten scrambles to press the open button again. Ten has Johnny on the phone even before he’s stepped out of the elevator.

“Morning, sunshine—“

"He totally knows,” Ten says in a hushed voice like he’s in an espionage movie. He looks around furtively.

“Wait what— I haven’t even bought the ring yet???”

“Wait— What—“

“What—“

Ten has his mouth hanging open, head buzzing.

“What ring—“

“Wait, who knows what?” Johnny’s voice has gone up a pitch.

“I was talking about Kun?” Ten says. “What ring, Johnny?”

“Uh— uh, for— uh... Yuta...?” Johnny says, stuttering.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“Wait, that’s not why you called, let’s go back to that,” Johnny says.

“No, hold on,” Ten says, and he’s starting to choke up. “You were going to propose to Yuta and not tell me? You were gonna go ring shopping without me?”

It feels like a punch to his solar plexus.

Johnny sputters out some garbled noise, and says, “Do you seriously, seriously think that I would propose without telling you first?”

“I don’t know,” Ten says, pretty stung. “Would you?”

“Tennie, I would never,” Johnny says, his voice soft. “What’s going on?”

“Okay, cos I would never forgive you, and don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation without explaining youself,” Ten sniffs, dabbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “You made me smear my makeup, bitch.”

Johnny laughs softly on the line.

“It’s a— you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” Johnny says. “It’s a commitment ring? Of sorts? Just something simple, some metal band that tells him that he’s it for me.”

“That sounds like an engagement to me,” Ten says, walking to his usual café, phone pressed to his ear.

“It’s really more like my way of saying ‘I don’t want anyone else but you unless we’re getting freaky with someone else that we both agreed to sleeping with because we both know our kinks and also by the way you’re the only one I’m in love with’, you know?” Johnny says.

The ache subsides.

“Okay fine,” Ten says. “That’s... valid.”

Johnny laughs again, this hearty thing.

“So, what goes on? Sounds like you have... a _Kun_ -undrum,” Johnny says, with a pause for dramatic effect.

Ten instantly wants to throw his best friend out of a moving car.

“I am never fucking talking to you again,” Ten says, and ends the call in lieu of calling Sicheng instead who answers on the second ring.

“Hey Tennie,” he says. “What’s up?”

“Sorry I called without texting first,” Ten says, mouthing ‘the usual’ at his favourite barista.

“It’s cool,” Sicheng says. “I’m just waiting for my class to arrive anyway. Is something wrong?”

“Well, yes, no? Yes, totally,” Ten says. “Kun knows who I am.”

“And your basis for this is—“

“He introduced himself to me on the elevator today,” Ten says.

Sicheng gasps. Johnny is trying to call him back, but Ten continues to ignore the notification.

“Wait, run me through exactly what happened,” Sicheng says, kind of breathless.

Ten knows he’s living for this drama, the fucking sadist.

“You’re enjoying this,” Ten says.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

“I was running late, for some reason so was he, he held the elevator open for me, and he introduced himself,” Ten says. “Like, my theory that it was the wrong guy, or his evil twin, completely debunked, Winwinnie.”

“I told you the latter was not plausible. You never listen. So did you actually introduce yourself?” Sicheng asks, emphasis on ‘your’, as Ten hears some chatter in the background, indicating that Sicheng’s lecture is about to begin.

“Well, uh, yes, I mean, I said I was Chittaphon,” Ten says, taking a bite out of his croissant.

“Smooth,” Sicheng deadpans.

“He got the pronunciation right and everything,” Ten says. “After the second try.”

“Good with his mouth, I like him,” Sicheng jokes.

“You always say such lovely things, Sicheng,” Ten replies.

"You love me.”

“Whatever.”

“So what did he say when you said that?” Sicheng says. “And make it quick, we’re only halfway through Nicomachean Ethics and I already want to fail 80% of my class.”

“He asked me if we had met before—“

Sicheng snorts.

“I said no.”

“Well, you’re not lying about that.”

“Do you think he recognises me?” Ten asks as he enters his office building. “Like, we didn’t exchange that many selcas really. I’ve just got that—“

“Freaky memory thing, yeah, I know,” Sicheng says. “What does your gut tell you?”

Ten contemplates this for a second.

It’s been nearly three months since he stood Kun up; three months since he last even laid eyes on the last selca Kun had sent him before he deleted his number and his messages to Ten.

Ten wonders if Kun had done the same immediately after Ten had stood him up.

“I can’t get a read on him, Winwinnie,” Ten says. “But he was really nice earlier.”

“Sounds a bit like you have a tiny crush there, Tennie,” Sicheng says. “Tread lightly.”

“I do NOT have a crush,” Ten says. “It’s just that he’s blonde now. I’m not thinking clearly.”

 

-

 

Ten totally has a crush.

It becomes glaringly obvious to him after three mornings in a row where he and Kun end up either entering the elevator on their floor together or seeing each other in the lobby of their condo.

It becomes glaringly obvious when, on the fourth day, the fifth, the weekend, Ten finds himself wishing that they would bump into each other again.

But it’s a small thing.

Manageable. It really is.

It’s only when Ten is having lunch with Yuta, Johnny, and Sicheng that Ten catches a glimpse of Kun again. They’re in the middle of their serving of tom yum goong when Ten sees Kun walk into the restaurant with quite possibly the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his life. Like, literally. This man has features that companies like SM Entertainment would murder to have as part of their roster. His eyebrows look like they’re plucked by Michelangelo himself. His cheek bones are sharper than blades.

Ten feels himself begin to spiral almost immediately.

“Fuck,” Ten hisses, ducking behind Johnny who is seated next to him.

“What? What is it?” Yuta says, spoon full of shrimp and lemongrass halfway to his mouth.

“He’s here,” Ten says, looking over furtively as Kun and Eyebrows take a seat on the opposite side of the room.

“Who?” Johnny says, head whipping around.

“Kun!” Ten says a little too loudly. He thanks the heavens that it’s pretty noisy in the restaurant since it’s the lunch hour.

“Oh my god, blondie,” Johnny says, finally catching sight of him. “What the fuck Ten, he’s even cuter IRL.”

Sicheng takes a look over his shoulder discreetly and nods in agreement. 

“You’re so fucked, Ten,” Sicheng says helpfully. Ten flicks a shrimp tail at him. Sicheng dodges it easily with his hand. “Who’s he with?”

Ten slumps in his seat. He knows what everyone is thinking.

“No idea,” Ten says. “He’s cute though. Maybe his boyfriend.”

He says it nonchalantly, but he knows that his best friends know that he’s faking it.

See, Ten’s had time to grapple with the very real possibility that Kun hadn’t actually recognised him, which was, of course more than enough to have deeply buried insecurities rise up to the surface. He had spent a good thirty minutes pacing around his tiny living room on video call with Yuta going, “I mean I know we never met, but does this mean my face is so forgettable? God, the lack of impact.” Ten knows he’s good-looking, knows that he’d make someone pretty happy, at the end of the day. It’s taken years of positive reinforcement and intense self-discipline to get himself into a headspace where he knows he’s more confident about how he looks, and what he’s capable of.

It’s just that he has his hang-ups. And everyone’s got their hang-ups. That’s okay. Relationships are messy; dealing with other people can be messy. He’s not impervious to his friends’ attempts at trying to unpack why he’s so averse to even trying to find someone. And it isn’t like he’s going around carrying a torch for anyone, either. Maybe one time, way back when, he would have fallen in love with Johnny, or Sicheng, especially considering he has, in fact, slept with them both, but they all knew a romantic relationship was off the table.

In any case, this new development of having the one person he had been remotely interested in in years now being his neighbour and dating _Eyebrows_ in his vicinity is jarring to say the least, because there’s a voice in his head than keeps bugging him at the most inopportune times. The voice that keeps replaying the evening of that fateful Saturday in his head, trying to fill in the gaps. Had Kun known that he had been at the restaurant and then left? Is that why he had said, “I’m sorry I missed you”? Or had Kun cared so little that he gave up after 3 calls?

And since that incident in the elevator, Ten’s firm resolve in reminding himself that he’s Not Actually Ugly has started to sort of fray at the edges just a little bit.

“I hate feeling like shit because of men,” Ten muses out loud, staring at the dregs of coconut milk and lemongrass in his bowl.

“Don’t let it get to you, Tennie,” Sicheng says, patting him on the back of his hand. “And stop staring at his poor companion. You look like you’re about to laser through his head and you know that you have no right to do that. No lasering through his maybe-boyfriend’s head.”

“No to feeling like shit cos of men,” Johnny says, pulling Ten in closer with his arm, and pushing some crab cakes over to share with him.

“Tennie, Sicheng’s right,” Yuta says, bringing a crab cake to his mouth with his chopsticks. “Don’t let it get to you.”

It’s nice, Ten thinks. Usually, he’s the one holding his friends down, talking them through insecurities and helping them trouble-shoot things. He’s got his entire life on lock. He’s just needed the reminder, his stupid crush on someone he ghosted notwithstanding.

“I don’t think that’s his boyfriend, Tennie,” Johnny mutters under his breath when the pad Thai arrives.

Ten’s eyes slide on over back to the pair, watching Kun throw his head back in laughter, which carries over to them. It’s a pretty laugh— deep, unrestrained.

“What makes you say that?” Ten asks. He stems the hope that blooms a tiny bit in his chest.

“Body language,” Johnny says, like he’s sage and all-knowing. “Tennie, I spend all my time telling actors to portray certain emotions. This doesn’t look like anything beyond platonic.”

“You and Yuta call each other ‘dude’ and ‘man’, and don’t even hold hands,” Ten says. “But you’re both gay as hell.”

“Ten’s got you there,” Yuta says, nudging his boyfriend’s foot with his own. “Our body language doesn’t exactly scream ‘raging homosexual lovers’.”

Johnny shakes his head.

“My gut feeling then,” Johnny says. “I’m sure I’m right.”

“We’re not gonna get anywhere by speculation,” Sicheng says, dabbing his mouth with a paper napkin. “Your only hope is to ask him about it if you’re so curious.”

“I’m not,” Ten says.

All three of Ten’s companions look at him with straight faces. Ten feels like he’s going to explode.

“Okay, fine, God, yes, I’m so curious, I really am,” Ten says, putting his head in his hands.

“And you’re curious because...?” Yuta trails off.

“I just am.”

They look at him again, Yuta raising his eyebrow.

Ten breaks.

“Because I have a crush on him!” Ten says in a hushed voice, his entire face burning hotter than the soup they’d ordered earlier.

“There it is,” Sicheng says, and Johnny holds his hand up, after which Sicheng high-fives him.

“First step,” Yuta says. “Now for the rest.”

“There is no ‘rest’, Yuyu,” Ten says. “It’s just a tiny crush.”

“We’ve been friends for a year and I’ve never heard you be this in denial about anyone,” Yuta says.

Ten bites the inside of his cheek. He knows Yuta’s right.

Ten wants to drop the subject, and Johnny knows him enough to divert to something else, so they spend the next thirty minutes talking about the budding talent that he’s found for the short film he’s working on, and throwing ideas around for a commercial an agency wants him to do.

The tension seeps from Ten’s shoulders quickly, and he allows himself to forget that Kun is in the vicinity.

Sicheng is in the middle of telling them about one of his students, someone he leaves unnamed, who had ended up throwing up during their oral exam from nerves.

“It’s cos your face does this like, _thing_ when you’re disgusted by something someone says,” Yuta quips. He imitates the expression he claims sits on Sicheng’s features, some mangled look of someone who smells something bad.

“It does not,” Sicheng says, smacking Yuta’s arm.

“It totally does,” Ten says. “Remember when Johnny told you he was ‘interested in learning about Hegel’s eudaemonia’ and you said, ‘That’s Aristotle, you buffoon’? Your face did that thing too.”

Yuta laughs softly; he knows that Johnny was just fucking with Sicheng then.

Ten’s laughter gets cut short, dying in his throat when he glances over at Kun again and Kun’s eyes suddenly slide over to look at him. He fights the urge to duck under the table.

Kun looks adorable when he’s surprised. He raises a hand and gives Ten a small wave.

Ten waves back. Johnny doesn’t miss the motion.

“Contact has been made,” Johnny says, cupping his hand over his mouth and pretending that he’s talking into a walkie-talkie. “Houston, we have contact.”

Ten steps on Johnny’s foot with the heel of his boot, making Johnny yelp, and Yuta laugh.

“You’re blushing,” Sicheng points out. “Adorable.”

“He waved at me,” Ten says, breathless.

“I’ve watched you ignore a man who brought you a bouquet of roses and you’re tripping over yourself after a hand wave. This guy’s really put a number on you,” Sicheng replies.

“My love cannot be bought with bouquets and offers to tasting menus at Michelin-star restaurants,” Ten sniffs. He has to force himself not to look over at Kun or the back of Eyebrows’ head.

“So what can, Tennie?” Yuta asks. “What can get you to consider someone?”

Ten worries his lower lip between his teeth. He thinks about the three weeks’ worth of conversation that he had had with Kun— barely any time to get to know someone, he’s aware. But many times, he’d found himself laughing out loud after Kun had sent him something unexpected. And even if he hadn’t been willing to admit it to himself at the time, he had started looking forward to waking up to messages from Kun. It had been really, really nice. And despite having been flirty, not once had Kun propositioned him inappropriately. He’d only ever been kind.

Johnny nudges Ten gently with his elbow.

“You’re staring at him,” Johnny whispers.

 Ten looks away.

“Looks like we have an answer, folks,” Sicheng says, laying his arms across Yuta’s back.

“Yeah, I’m done for, huh,” Ten sighs. He calls over the waiter for their bill.

When the four of them start to rise from their seats having paid and tipped the waiter generously, Ten intends to simply make a beeline for the exit, but of course, as Ten’s luck would have it, that happens to be when Kun and Eyebrows start to make their way out, as well.

“Hey, Chittaphon!” Kun says brightly, clapping Ten on the shoulder.

 Ten wants to run away.

He stays in place.

It’s weird to him, having someone say his given name in public like this, especially when it seems to roll off of Kun’s tongue like he’s practiced it over and over.

“Hi, Kun,” Ten says, putting his PR smile on, trying desperately to not look at Eyebrows nastily, trying desperately to not feel the tiny gnawing sensation of misplaced jealousy that he feels in the general area of his fucking gallbladder or whatever.

He’s fine. This is fine.

“Xiaojun, this is my neighbour Chittaphon,” Kun says, holding onto Xiaojun’s elbow as they all step out onto the scorching street.

“Chittaphon, this is my nephew, Xiaojun,” Kun says. “Well, not exactly nephew, more like godson really.”

Ten feels himself deflate with relief. He also knows that Johnny, Yuta, and Sicheng are waiting to be introduced. He can feel them vibrating with anticipation behind him, Johnny most of all, though Ten has a suspicion that it’s because Johnny was only half-joking when he asked if he thought Kun would be into threesomes.

This moment is pivotal.

Ten had mentioned, back when they were still chatting on Tinder, that he had three best friends, that they were ridiculous, but he had only ever alluded to them. He’d never told Kun their names. He wonders if Kun remembers, if not his face, then them.

“Kun, these are my best friends,” Ten says, gesturing behind him.

“This is Johnny,” he says as Johnny steps forward, holding his hand out to shake Kun’s. “And his boyfriend Yuta.”

Yuta says, “Hey!” with his bright smile, and follows Johnny’s lead, shaking Kun’s hand as well.

“And this is Sicheng,” Ten says. Sicheng smiles at Kun politely, and gives a little bow of his head. Kun does the same.

“Nice bumping into you,” Kun says, taking a step back. “Well, I’m gonna take this one back to his uni.“ Xiaojun beams at that, his chest puffing out a bit.

“See you around, Chittaphon, guys,” Kun says with a wave before Xiaojun links his arm through Kun’s, and they walk off in the opposite direction.

There’s a moment of silence as they stare after the pair.

And then Johnny says, “Houston, we have made contact— chhhh— I repeat—“

Yuta laughs, and turns to Ten.

“Tennie, his hand is so soft,” Yuta says.

“Firm handshake too,” Johnny adds.

“I _cannot_ believe that these two have touched him before you have,” Sicheng says, exasperated.

“Doomed,” Ten says, stomping off. “I’m doomed.”

 

-

 

Ten’s doom comes sooner than later, apparently.

It’s 9 pm and he’s stood barefoot in his kitchen chopping some spring onions when he hears a timid knock on his door, something he would have missed if he had been cooking with music on. He isn’t expecting any guests, so when he looks through the peephole and sees Kun on the other side, he nearly decides to just ignore it, pretend he’s not home.

 His hand is on the doorknob. He watches Kun look down.

 “You know I can see the shadow of your feet, right?”

Ten steps back.  

“It’s okay if you’d rather not talk, but I figured something out today and I just—“ Kun starts.

Ten wrenches the door open. Kun looks startled, his hair a little limp. He’s got glasses on. Ten didn’t know that he even needed them.

“Hi,” Kun says, a little breathless, his dimple coming out. His glasses slide down a bit, and Ten tracks the movement of him pushing them back up his nosebridge.

“Hi,” Ten says. His heart is going a mile a minute, a drumming noise inside his chest.

“Hi,” Kun says. He’s rooted to the spot, his hands in his pocket. There's a moment of hesitation before he continues, staring a bit around the area of Ten's knees. “I— I’m not great with faces. Even my workmates took me months to learn, and that was with daily reinforcement.”

Ten tightens his grip on his door. He knows, Ten thinks. If he didn’t know before, he knows now.

“Chittaphon,” Kun says, looking him in the eye for the first time since Ten answered the door. “Does the word ‘ten’ mean anything to you other than a number?”

Dolce meows around the vicinity of Ten’s foot, but he doesn’t look down. Doesn’t break eye contact. Kun waits patiently.

“Uh— y-yeah,” Ten says. “Hello. I’m Ten.”

His heart is racing, racing, a stallion far gone. He’d deluded himself far too much into thinking he got away.

Kun nods.

“I wasn’t sure,” Kun says. His hands are wrung in front of him. “I wasn’t sure that first day, or the second, or the third.”

Ten feels like his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“H-how’d you become sure now?” Ten asks, voice raspy.

“Your friends, actually,” Kun says, a small laugh being huffed out as he bends forward a bit. “I remembered you telling me one of them was so tall you’d figured he was probably about the same height as the idol Chanyeol, and that his boyfriend had floppy hair and a healing smile.”

Ten sags forward, his hand coming up to cover his face. What a fucking shitstorm.

“Hey,” Kun says, hands out like he’s trying to keep from spooking Ten. “Ten, look, I’m not trying to— to start anything. I’m not here to fight, I’m not here to confront you about anything.”

“I just—,” Kun continues. “I wasn’t even sure you recognised me. But if you did, well, I didn’t want you thinking that I was toying with you, either. Is that— is that messed up? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what compelled me to come over here, I hope you don’t think I’m—“

“You’re rambling a bit there,” Ten says softly. The proverbial cat’s out of the bag, and now that the initial panic has ebbed away, all that floods him is relief.

Kun’s mouth snaps shut. He bites his lower lip.

Ten makes a decision. He holds his hand out.

“Hi Kun, I’m Ten. Do you maybe want to come in for some tea?” Ten asks, hopeful, hopeful that whatever sticky situation they’re still sort of in has the chance to get smoothened out, if Kun accepts his olive branch and drinks some chamomile with him.

Kun hesitates, looking embarrassed.

“I really don’t mean to overstep anything here, Ten,” Kun says, his voice small. It’s starting to make Ten’s chest hurt. “I realise this isn’t the ideal situation for you. I swear I had no idea where you lived before I chose to move here. I— I didn’t stalk you or anything.”

It takes Ten aback, makes him frown, since not once had he ever thought that.

“Kun,” Ten says, reaching his hand out to lay it on the back of Kun’s. “I’d never presume that. Seems like the fates just really wanted to fuck with us, and are probably laughing at us right now.”

Kun runs a hand through his hair, making the ends stick out wildly. Ten waits, hip resting on the door frame.

“Okay,” Kun says, and crosses the threshold into Ten’s apartment.

Ten watches Kun look around while they both walk into the kitchen, and Kun settles on one of the high chairs at the breakfast island.

“Do you have a preferred tea?” Ten asks.

“I can’t believe I get to see your collection,” Kun says with a smile.

Ten pauses, mouth slightly agape. 

“You remembered?”

Kun looks down at Dolce who is now curled up on the seat next to his.

“Quite a lot more than I expected, it seems,” Kun replies. “And genmaicha, if you please.”

Ten feels that same clench in his gut, the annoying one round his midsection. He’d told Kun that was his favourite. Ten tiptoes a bit, reaching for the airtight container on top of his fridge, and places his little collection in front of Kun, who opens it carefully. He runs his eyes over the packets and Ten names them: genmaicha, sencha, chocolate earl grey, vanilla rooibos, oolong.

The kettle whistles and Ten pulls out his favourite mugs. He steeps the leaves, and Kun watches him silently as he weaves his way through the kitchen and back to the counter, holding a strainer and a small jar of honey.

Kun stares at it.

“You remembered,” he says. Ten smiles.

 

-

 

It’s when they’ve both got mugs in their hands that Ten says, “So,” and then both of them are embarrassed all over again.

Ten laughs nervously, but he figures if he’s going to have karma bite him in his perky butt, it might as well be in the comfort of his own home.

“Where do I start?” Ten asks, voice a little small. “I suppose I start with, with I’m sorry.”

Kun tightens his grip on his mug.

“I’m not here to wrangle an apology from you, Ten—“

“I know, but I’m sorry still,” Ten says. “Standing you up, ignoring you. You deserved better.”

Ten knows that Kun isn’t waiting for an explanation, and any reasoning won’t sound reasonable to either one of them. Ten figures the truth is the only thing he can give up at this point.

“I got scared,” Ten says, looking into the tea between his hands. “I panicked.”

“Hardly any justification, I know,” He continues. “I’d spent all those weeks enjoying talking to you, and when the prospect of meeting you came closer and closer, the more I was afraid that that would be ruined. What if you were actually awful in person? What if we argued? All what ifs.”

Kun nods.

“I get it, Ten,” Kun says. “I got it that night, I get it now.”

Ten takes a sip.

“Did you know I had left? Did I make you worry?”

Kun rests his elbows on the counter.

“I saw your water goblet,” Kun says. “I figured it out after the third call.”

Ten keeps his hands around his mug.

“I thought about you a lot after that, I’ll be honest,” Kun says. “I went over a lot of our messages, trying to figure out what I could have said wrong. But I figured you didn't owe me anything,” Kun says and it makes Ten want to curl in on himself.

Ten remains silent for a while, finishes off his tea.

“I saw you the day you moved in,” Ten says. “The blonde threw me off but I don’t forget faces, especially not faces like yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kun asks, his nose crinkling.

‘Doomed’, Ten thinks.

“Handsome ones,” Ten says instead, smiling sweetly, waiting to get a rise out of Kun.

It works. Kun laughs, the comment so unexpected.

“I didn’t know you were this smooth in real life,” Kun says.

“I didn’t exactly give you the chance to,” Ten says, and it’s a soft moment, the two of them holding each other’s gaze. It’s probably the sappiest moment he’s ever shared with anyone, barring the last time he and Johnny had kissed and decided they were better off as friends.

“But,” Ten says, hesitating a bit. “The offer is on the table if you want it. If you’re still interested.”

Kun searches his face. Ten swallows.

“I’m gonna need you to be clear with what you’re offering, Ten,” Kun says, and it’s not unkind.

Kun is letting Ten call the shots. He knows this. Ten is grateful.

“Dating apps were never for me,” Ten says, getting braver by the second. “I only really got one when Johnny and Yuta egged me on. I always wanted to meet someone just, you know, just by accident or something. A meet-cute in a restaurant. Talking to you made me like you, but it didn’t mean I knew you. And I kind of fucked up in that department but... if you’d like, maybe we could get to know each other better now?”

His hands are a little clammy. Kun’s finished his tea.

“I...” Kun begins. “I’m your neighbour now. I’d like to go through the next step of being your friend.”

Ten takes it. He’ll take it. It’s more than he expected.

“I’d like that,” he says, like it’s simple, because it is that simple.

Kun smiles at him.

Ten’s got butterflies.

 

-

 

It’s a slow thing, their friendship.

Ten invites Kun over for dinner the following Friday, with Johnny, Yuta and Sicheng. He had informed them that it would be Italian for the evening, and Kun brings wine over, this beautiful Zinfandel that pairs perfectly with his pasta. Sicheng and Kun hit it off almost instantly, the pair slipping into Mandarin like they’re stretching their legs out after being cramped for too long. Ten pulls a terrible joke, smiling serenely while they both look at him like he’s grown a second head.

Johnny and Yuta end up accosting Kun for a solid hour, asking about investment prospects and things about finance that Ten can only sort of follow, so he and Sicheng end up trying to outmatch each other drink for drink on the couch while they talk shop.

It becomes a regular thing.

Ten watches as his friend group opens up to make room for one more, the rest of them rearranging things to accommodate the presence of Kun in their lives of their own accord.

Soon enough, Ten wakes up to a new group chat that has Kun in it.

At the end of Xiaojun’s semester Kun invites them over to his place, a mirror image of Ten’s apartment, but also almost completely different. The couch is much more lush, a huge sprawling thing that takes up most of the living room. A smaller refrigerator. No cat. Just a plant.

It’s a moderately sized party, a gathering that includes some of Xiaojun’s classmates and his roommate Hendery, this boisterous STEM major who ribs Ten within the first five minutes of meeting him. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but it’s cosy. There’s warm chatter everywhere.

It’s four months since Ten had invited Kun into his kitchen for a cup of genmaicha and a serving of humble pie when the party takes place. Xiaojun, someone that Ten’s gotten to know in that time, is sitting next to him on the couch while his godfather and Yuta argue about music. Ten’s been good with being friends with Kun.

(He tells himself and Johnny and Sicheng and Yuta that the butterflies have not gone away.)

(He’s frustrated about it, but he makes do.)

Xiaojun clears his throat.

“So, my uncle,” Xiaojun starts.

Ten tenses a bit. He doesn’t exactly want to have this conversation, especially not in Kun’s apartment. He’s been dealing with his feelings okay enough, he thinks. Kun had said _friends_. He’s ok with being friends. You can have a crush on your friend. Ten is ok, as long as he doesn’t have to talk about it.

"Hey, it’s cool, I’m not gonna like, press anything,” Xiaojun says.

Ten likes the kid. He’s earnest and ridiculously smart and candid.

“I just wanted to say that I’ve never seen him this calm,” Xiaojun continues. “It’s nice to see him all lit up like this. I don’t know what the deal is with you guys, and like I said, I’m not gonna press, but for what it’s worth I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been great seeing him come alive since he moved into this place and reconnected with you. That’s all.”

Ten is speechless.

Xiaojun waggles his stupid beautiful eyebrows at him and Ten resists the urge to punch him because now his entire body is vibrating with some giddy emotion that he can’t name or place.

“I— honestly don’t know what to say to this,” Ten replies. “But I’m glad you think so.”

 

-

 

The thing Xiaojun says doesn’t leave Ten for the next week. It follows him when he and Kun leave for their respective offices in the morning; when he’s lying in his bed, knowing full well that Kun is lying in bed on the wall opposite his, while they send each other vine compilations. It follows him when he invites Kun over for a slice of cake that he had stress-baked after a huge client had nearly pulled out of a project before Ten had managed to save their asses with his smooth-talking and his sales pitch.

“What was it like for you before you moved here?” Ten asks out of the blue, sitting next to Kun on his couch.

Kun, by now, is used to it. He’s got a little plate resting on his tummy, his socked feet crossed at the ankle, legs stretched out over the low coffee table.

“Quiet,”Kun says. “Lonely.”

“Most of my friends from childhood have moved out of the city,” Kun elaborates. “Most of my friends from work have families. And I definitely didn’t make friends with my old neighbors. One of them was this cranky lady who always made the hallway smell like dried fish."

Ten laughs, tossing his head back a bit.

"Spent a lot of time pretty much raising Xiaojun since his parents sent him here to study,” Kun says, bring a forkful of the chiffon to his mouth. He chews thoughtfully before continuing. “Took him to the museums and the parks a lot when I’d get time off. Age gap’s not that huge I know, but he’s still a kid to me. He makes me feel old whenever he brings up memes I’m not familiar with. He likes to roll his eyes and tell me it’s cos I don’t own a ‘stan T-W-T’ account, whatever that means.”

He takes a sip of the espresso Ten had prepared him. 

"When I made the decision to move to a different building in another part of town, I hadn’t expected much of that to change,” Kun says.

Ten eats his own forkful if only to have something to do.

“I’m lucky it did,” Kun says, tiny smile on his face. “Lucky I bumped into you.”

Ten’s fork slips from his fingers and clacks against the plate he's got in his other hands. He feels a sort of burn in his chest that threatens to spill out. He bites the inside of his cheek. Counts to ten.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks, turning his body toward Ten.

“You— yeah,” Ten says. He’s getting his breathing under control. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Kun doesn’t seem to be buying it. He stands up, and the sound of the tap goes off. He returns with a glass of water, handing it to Ten.

“You kinda look like you wanna murder me,” Kun says.

Ten takes another deep breath. Exhales. Deflates.

“I...” Ten begins.

 _I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay_ , he chants in his head.

“I’m sorry, was it something I said?” Kun asks, hands out placatingly.

Ten takes a calming breath. Sets his cake down carefully.

“You can’t just say shit like that when I’m trying to be your friend,” Ten says, and he’s not looking at Kun, he’s looking at the ceiling.

“What shit? What do you mean?” Kun asks, like he’s completely oblivious.

Ten shuts his eyes and then opens them again. Takes in how Kun looks: clubmasters resting on his nose bridge a little low; oversized t-shirt hanging loose around his neck; deer-in-headlights expression.

Ten wants so, so badly to kiss him.

“I’m sorry, Kun,” Ten says, and he can see Kun’s face falling in increments. “I’ve been trying to get a handle on how I feel about you, it’s just a little difficult to do that sometimes.”

“Ten, what do you mean?” Kun asks, and his voice is steady.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you this entire time we’ve been getting to know each other,” Ten says. “And I guess now is as good a time as any to say it. But I’ve been trying to be a good friend, to respect what you want, to enjoy what we’ve got right now. I just slipped up.”

“I want you to know that I haven’t been spending time with you just because of that,” Ten says, slowly, clearly, because this is important. “You are my friend, first and foremost. Every day since you came over that night has been— well, pretty perfect. So I hope that maybe we can kind of like, pretend I didn’t just confess that I have a massive crush on you and just... go back to like, ten minutes ago?” Ten asks, his voice rising a little toward the end.

Kun sets aside his own plate. Turns back to face his body toward Ten, his feet now curled up under him. He rests his arm on the back of the couch, his hand barely an inch from Ten’s shoulder.

Ten tracks his movement with his eyes, barely allowing himself to breathe.

Dolce meows from the window sill. Ten’s record player is still going, the neon pink vinyl of Kun’s Drive soundtrack spinning, ‘[A Real Hero](https://open.spotify.com/track/1aJrVsHwcQMZ8TZ6mlvT5J?si=FX_YiXbiSz-FSrsW-4qZWQ)’ a little too loud for Ten’s liking.

Kun is moving closer, and Ten waits. He watches.

Kun’s eyes are honey brown in this light.

“What if,” Kun says softly. “What if I told you I have a massive crush on you, too?”

Bronwyn Griffin’s voice repeats ‘real human being, and a real hero’ over and over again, distantly, as everything else fades out.

“Would you still want to go back to ten minutes ago?”

Ten shakes his head slowly.

Kun smiles.

It’s hot breath that tickles Ten’s ear when Kun whispers, “Can I please kiss you?”

The music changes. A woman’s voice sounds far away, repeating ‘you keep me under your spell’.

Ten licks his lips.

He nods.

Ten had never thought that kissing someone could feel like this.

They had driven through LA once, when they’d rented a top-down. Johnny had been driving, and Ten and Sicheng had stood up in their seats, arms out, raucous laughter, music blaring. They’d nearly been pulled over. Ten had felt his entire body come alive, wind in his hair, through his fingertips, completely free.

It’s what kissing Kun feels like.

Kun slides his lips over Ten’s own, and Ten grazes his teeth over Kun’s bottom lip, which makes Kun pull him in closer, cup him under his jaw, changing his angle so he can fit himself into Ten better.

Ten’s entire body burns up.

He straddles Kun, and Kun lets him, kneads into Ten’s thighs with his hands.

There’s a small whine that escapes Kun’s mouth when Ten grinds down, makes Kun pull away to gasp an inhale, and when Ten catches sight of Kun’s expression, blissed out just from kissing him, he soars. There’s nothing hurried about it. Kun takes his time taking Ten apart with his mouth. One button comes off, then another, then another.

Kun pushes Ten’s shirt off his shoulders, but only just, and traces the fair copper skin with his lips.

Teeth over a racing pulse.

Ten’s got his hands buried in the soft hair that keeps threatening to fall over Kun’s eyes.

“Can I—“ Kun says, voice rough, gravel under hot sun. “Can I—“

Ten whispers, “please,” guiding Kun with his hands, his fingers in the blonde curls, and Kun latches onto the skin, sucks at it until the spot flares pink, then crimson.

 

-

 

They fall asleep together a little later, curled up on the small couch, Kun’s arm thrown over Ten’s waist, Ten’s head pillowed on Kun’s arm, which has no doubt lost all feeling in the night.

It’s Kun who stirs first, something wet on his fingers rousing him from sleep. Kun jerks awake, Dolce’s wet nose nudging his hand. Ten turns over a bit before his eyes slowly open. He squints in the darkness, eyes unfocused. His face is inches from Kun’s.

“Hi,” Kun says.

“Hi,” Ten replies. He leans in, presses his lips to the corner of Kun’s mouth.

It’s an entirely new day.

Ten sits up, shrugging his shirt back on. Kun’s t-shirt is a rumpled mess from where it had been pressed up against Ten’s back. His hair looks like a golden nest. Ten tells him as much. Kun goes, “yeah yeah, like yours is any better.”

Ten is elated.

They decide to fuck with the rest of their friends by not saying anything until later in the evening when they meet Johnny, Yuta, and Sicheng outside Tango’s, this little bar that has a piano man who plays show tunes and takes requests from the audience that’s required to sing along. Nothing much changes really from all the other times they’ve all gone out together, except for the fact that Ten and Kun had spent the afternoon making out furiously in Kun’s apartment against the wall and pulling away only because Johnny had video-called to RSVP for later.

It’s Yuta who sees it first, of course, when they arrive outside Tango's, though Ten doesn’t exactly hide it. The choker he’s wearing doesn’t even cover a portion of it.

“Oh my God,” Yuta says, eyes wide, jaws dropping. “Oh my God, that hickey is insane.”

Johnny has to do a double-take.

“Did a bear do this?”

Sicheng chokes on a pearl from the boba tea he’s drinking and has to double over to have Kun smack him heavily on the back while his entire face turns beet red. Ten frantically asks if anyone knows how to do the Heimlich and Johnny says “there’s only one kind of licking I know.”

His own boyfriend kicks him in the shin for it. Johnny hops on one foot, Sicheng straightens up, finally able to breathe again, and Ten is watching the dumpster fire of their evening begin to unfold while Kun laughs at everything.

“Ten! Who mauled you?” Johnny asks.

“Kun did,” Ten says, pulling his ID out of his wallet and taking Kun’s.

“Oh, okay,” Johnny says.

Ten and Kun wait.

It’s one second.

And another.

“WAIT, OH,” Johnny says, jumping back. “Oh! Oh! Okay! Ohhhhh, okay! That’s!”

Yuta all but swallows Kun in a crushing hug.

Sicheng throws one arm around Ten and pulls him in to press a wet kiss on his temple.

“About goddamn time,” Sicheng says.

“Oh my god you did it,” Yuta says, jostling Kun’s arm. “You actually did it! Hold up, did you actually... do... it...”

“No!” Ten and Kun say in unison.

“That's cool! Sorry I asked!” Yuta says, hands up, hiding behind Johnny, who steps away from him.

“You’re not getting any protection from me tonight,” Johnny says. “You kicked me.”

“You were being unhelpful!”

“Can we please just go inside already?” Kun asks, leading the way.

So they go, and the piano man takes their requests, and they drink too much cheap beer, and they sing songs too loudly.

There’s a point in the evening where an old Kpop love song is requested, and the five of them are all swaying along to it. Johnny's got his arm around Yuta, and in a rare display of affection, Yuta buries his face in Johnny’s broad chest. Ten sees when Johnny’s eyes widen at the gesture and sees when they soften around the edges, the golden brown hidden when Johnny closes his eyes and holds him.

The music picks up again later when Ten bravely goes up to the piano man and says, “Take Me or Leave Me”, and then the whole room is cheering him on while he and Kun duet dramatically on the concrete floor, Ten strutting around while Kun pretends to be exasperated with him.

They’re half-drunk and significantly more broke than before the evening began when Sicheng suggests they make their way to a park, and Johnny and Yuta streak off into the darkness, the pair running like Naruto, chasing each other while the three attempt to walk despite laughter. Ten walks with both his arms looped between one of Sicheng’s and one of Kun’s. In the distance, they can hear Johnny and Yuta shouting at each other in Japanese.

“Hey Kun ge,” Sicheng says. “Normally I’d give you the whole, ‘if you break Ten’s heart, I’ll kill you’ speech. But I don’t think I need to,” Sicheng continues. “I think I need to give that speech to Ten himself.”

“Oh har har,” Ten says sarcastically, though it still kind of stings.

But Kun doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nah,” Kun says, kissing Ten’s hair lightly. “Ten’s a reformed ghoster.”

“Thank you,” Ten says haughtily, sniffing, looking at Sicheng with hurt eyes. “See, I am reformed. Like Kun says.”

Sicheng laughs and tugs on Ten’s arm.

“Don’t forget it, Chittaphon,” Sicheng says, and Kun barks out his own laugh at Sicheng’s boldness.

“You’re all literally the fucking worst,” Ten says.

When they catch up to Johnny and Yuta, it’s clear that all the running has made them sober up, and they’re sitting at the fountain, talking. Johnny catches Ten’s eye, and Ten nods, the barest movement.

Johnny stands up and says, “Wait, I need you to stay put like that,” to Yuta.

Yuta’s staring at him, this tiny, tiny smile on his face.

“Johnny, what are you doing?”

The other three hang back a bit, and Ten pulls out his phone to play ‘Healing’ by this new idol group Seventeen on the loudest volume. The entire setup is ridiculous and so very _them._

“Yuta, Yuyu, bro, baby,” Johnny says, crouching on one knee. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the first week we started dating, which you made fun of me for, but that’s okay, cos even you making fun of me for it made me love you even more.”

Ten has to hold back his laughter.

“So after everything we’ve been through,” Johnny continues. “After learning how to fight fair with you, after learning how to love you better, after every little meal we’ve split, I’ve concluded that you’re my best friend—no offence Ten,” Johnny says, turning back to look at Ten.

“None taken, asshole, finish your speech already!” Ten shouts back just as S. Coups sings ‘seoro nundongja soge bichin’.

“Yuta,” Johnny says, taking a velvet box out of his coat pocket. “Will you move in with me?”

Yuta throws his head back in laughter, tears in his eyes.

Johnny is holding a shiny silver key out, and he’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin any of them have ever seen.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny,” Yuta says, leaping into Johnny’s waiting arms. “Yes, yes, of course, you jerk. I’ve been waiting months for you to ask.”

“You guys are the gayest straight-passing dudes I have ever met,” Sicheng says as he claps and shakes his head.

“You love us, bitch,” Johnny says, as he and Yuta go in to accept the hugs of their friends.

“First this, then marriage, then joint account, boys,” Ten says, all of them arm in arm.

 

-

 

Things move gradually from that point on.

It takes a while before Ten proposes to Kun with his own key, just around the time when Ten knows Kun’s lease is almost up and a decision has to be made. Ten loses his small couch for Kun’s bigger one. A plant sits on his windowsill.

Sicheng meets Jung Jaehyun, a new PhD candidate that he bumps into in the library of his university. He falls in love almost instantly, and Yuta spends a good chunk of time making fun of him for that, too.

At their weekly dinners, Ten starts setting the table for 6 soon enough.

Johnny suggests that he and Ten get matching friendship tattoos during one of those dinners and Ten is intrigued by the idea until Johnny doodles a stupid flame on a paper napkin and grins at him while Ten says, “Get off your Tinder agenda, for fuck’s sake.”

Kun thinks it’s funny.

Ten thinks he’ll do anything to keep Kun smiling at him like that.

(They don’t get the stupid Tinder tattoos, but Ten gets a moon and Johnny gets a sun and it’s good, it’s perfect. Kun likes to kiss the inside of Ten’s wrist when the ink has healed up.)

When Xiaojun graduates, both Kun and Ten are there; and the entire group, Jaehyun included, pitches in and decides to gift him with a car, a small Picanto. It isn’t much, but it still has him crying, clinging on to his godfather’s neck when his legs give out from under him.

It’s a good life, Ten thinks, when Kun sidles up behind him as he makes their morning tea, a small jar of honey next to Kun’s mug— the one he had drank from all those years ago.

Kun’s got his massive hands on Ten’s waist, his nose in Ten’s hair, his lips on Ten’s neck.

“Good morning, Ten,” Kun says with a smile as Ten turns in his arms.

“Good morning, Kun,” Ten replies, before raising his chin and waiting for Kun to kiss him.

Ten still doesn’t believe in dating apps, but he’ll give one concession for this.

He’ll never tell Johnny though.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [my carrd, made by the lovely Erin.](https://t.co/Nm5AvDvn2U)


End file.
